“Yeah, a little while back. He’s not letting go. Not yet, at least.”
“Tough bastard.” Knile slumped back, exhausted. “What do you see when you look inside his head? Is he dreaming?”
“I just see light. Distant light. It’s hard to explain.”
“Is that what you see when you look in mine, too?”
Ursie scowled. “I can’t look inside your head anymore, remember? Not unless I’m touching you.”
“But when you could, was I like that?”
She sat up and scrubbed at her eyes. “I don’t know, I…” She shrugged. “Everyone’s different. Their thoughts are shaped in their own way. It’s like how each person has a different sounding voice, a face that’s uniquely their own. That’s the best way I can put it.”
“I guess it’s something you can’t really understand unless you experience it yourself.”
“Yeah.”
There was a crackling sound, and Knile lifted the longwave from his belt, turning up the volume.
“Knile, we… out of the Reach,” came Talia’s fragmented voice.
“Talia? Can you hear me?”
“We’re okay. We’re… Silvestri’s contact off-world… over to Bagley’s to see… fastest way to get to Sunspire.”
“Talia, you’re breaking up. Say again?”
“Knile?”
“Talia, can you hear me?”
There was no response, and then the connection seemed to go dead. Knile could only look helplessly across at Ursie.
“What was all that about?” she said.
“I heard Bagley’s name in there. That’s Talia’s old employer. He’s in the dirigible business, so I guess that’s how they’re planning to get across the lowlands.”
“Is that going to work?”
Knile shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. Talia has some experience in piloting those things, so why not?”
“Not much point worrying about them, is it? Not when we have our own problems.”
“Yeah. They’ll get it sorted out. Talia knows what she’s doing.”
Ursie lay down again and sighed. “What are we going to do when we get there, Knile? Even if we can get inside this Sunspire place, how are we going to get it working?”
“We’ll figure something out.”
“What if we don’t?”
“Then we’ll probably die. But at least we’ll go knowing that we gave it our best goddamn shot.”
Ursie scowled at him. “Is that supposed to be encouraging? Because it’s not.”
“I can give you the happily ever after version if that will make you feel better.”
“Pass. Right now I’d just like to–”
“Land, ho!” Tobias called suddenly.
Knile looked and saw something ahead, what seemed like a solid wall blocking the tunnel. Alarmed, he got to his feet and ran to the front of the handcar to get a better look.
“What is it?” he said to Tobias.
“The door to the way station. Gotta be.”
“How do we get through?”
“Well, now. That’s the interestin’ part, no?”
Tobias eased back on the crank, and the handcar slowed as it neared the door. Knile alighted from the vehicle and strode forward eagerly, searching for a control panel. Tobias locked the crank and then began to climb down, and as he did, a pained expression crept across his face. He clutched awkwardly at his chest.
“Hey, are you okay?” Knile said, grabbing him by the shoulders.
“Fine, fine,” Tobias said dismissively, brushing him aside. “The ol’ ticker has stood up to worse than this in its day.”
“What’s going on?” Ursie said as she reached them.
“Tobias has taken his last shift on the crank,” Knile said, inwardly cursing himself for allowing the old man to take over the job. “I’ll handle the physical work from now on.”
“Rubbish,” Tobias said. His hand dropped away from his chest, and he straightened indignantly. “I’ve never turned my back on a hard day’s work in my damn life–”
He stopped, sensing something, and then a tremendous cracking sound – like that of a glacier shedding a great chunk of itself – scattered across the tunnel. The Skywalk shuddered, and the walls seemed to shift around them. They all turned as one and looked back along the tunnel in the direction in which they had come.
“The decay. It’s accelerating,” Knile said, a feeling of dread seeping into his bones. “The Skywalk is going to fall out from under our feet if we don’t hurry up.”
“What are we waiting for, then?” Ursie said, turning back to the way station door. “Let’s get this thing open.”
Knile glanced up at the door. It was an imposing structure, comprised of a series of interlocking steel segments that were arranged both horizontally and vertically. Tobias made a bee-line for a panel on one side and flicked it open.
“Here,” he said. “This is the controller, but…” He thumped on the buttons. “The damn thing’s as dark as a barrel of molasses.”
Knile stepped over to take a look, tapping at the screen and pressing buttons, but he too had no success in his attempts to get the control panel activated.
“No power,” he said. “Again.” There was a thud in the tunnel behind them, followed by a series of scraping and grinding sounds. A few moments later, another eddy of wind swirled menacingly around them.
“Whatever you’re going to do,” Ursie said, “you better do it quick.”
Knile began to look about for other ideas, then spotted a handle embedded in a cavity in the far wall. It was surrounded by yellow and black striped hazard markings. Underneath was written Emergency Door Release.
“How the hell did we miss that!” he exclaimed, moving over to the handle and gripping it with both deerskin gloves. He gave it a sharp tug.
The handle didn’t budge.
He pulled again, this time with all of his might. The cords on his neck bulged, and his arms felt as though they might be torn from their sockets at any moment. He cried out, giving it everything that he had, but it was no use.
“Take this,” Tobias said urgently, handing him a hammer from his toolkit. Knile took it and steadied his aim, then began to pummel the handle, raining down blows upon it with all the ferocity he could muster. After twenty or more blows he began to slow, and then he relented.
He slumped back, exhausted.
“Goddammit!” he yelled, panting. “It’s not budging. It’s completely seized up.”
“Then we might be lookin’ at a whole world of hurt, here,” Tobias said.
Ursie, who was standing nearby and looking up at the door, suddenly cried out in surprise.
“Look!” she said, pointing. “Someone’s in there!”
Knile moved over to her side, perplexed, still trying to regather his breath.
“What? That’s impossible.”
“No, I saw a face. Right there!” She pointed again, and Knile could see a small, featureless circle of reflective material in the door. It seemed opaque, however, and he doubted it was even a window.
“I don’t see anything, Ursie.”
“It was there, I swear it!” She moved closer and started waving her hands before the door. “Help!” she called at the top of her lungs. “Let us in! Please!”
Knile glanced about desperately. Their options seemed to have evaporated. He climbed up onto the handcar, hoping to find a different perspective, and saw Lazarus still lying there, oblivious to what was going on around him. Knile’s backpack was there, as well as the container of water, but none of those things would help get them through the doorway.
He looked back toward the way station, at the seemingly impenetrable barrier that stood in their way. On the floor below, the handcar track ended abruptly at its base.
An idea came to him. A stupid idea, but an idea nonetheless.
“Help me shift Lazarus,” he said to the others, moving to the rear of the handcar. He dug his fingers under the Redman’s back and began to ro
ll him toward the edge.
“What are you doing?” Ursie said.
“I’m going to ram the door with the handcar.”
Ursie stared at him, shocked. “You’re what?”
“I’m going to ram it. If I hit it hard enough, it might knock one of the panels loose. Give us a gap to crawl through.”
“You leave a gap in that wall,” Tobias said, “and the way station will decompress once this segment breaks off.”
“That’s why we’ll have to be out the other side by the time that happens,” Knile said. He grunted as he shoved Lazarus over the side of the handcar, unceremoniously dumping him on the floor with a thud. “Sorry, buddy,” he added.
“This is crazy,” Ursie said. “What if you smash a hole in the wall of the Skywalk?”
“Then we die,” Knile said. “But we’re going to die anyway if we don’t get through.” He waved at the two of them. “Stand back.”
Ursie held up a hand to stall him. “Wait a second–”
“Ursie, if you have a better plan, then go for it! Otherwise, get the hell out of my way.”
Knile twisted the reversing handle, then began to pump the crank. Ursie stepped out of the way, still staring at him hopelessly, and then they disappeared behind him.
How much run up do I need? Knile thought. How hard do I need to hit the damn door?
The answer, he supposed, was as hard as possible.
In the back of his mind, he knew this plan was doomed to fail. The top speed of the handcar under the power of the crank wasn’t much more than a fast run, and without cargo, its mass was relatively low. Knile imagined that the maximum force with which he could hit the door would simply cause the handcar to derail.
Like throwing a paper plane at a brick wall.
There was another loud noise ahead, and Knile saw a flash of brightness. A gust of wind hit him in the face, stronger than before, and with horror he realised that they’d run out of rope. The Skywalk ended only a matter of one hundred metres or more away, where the last bulkhead had snapped shut.
The tunnel buckled and tipped, and Knile slammed the crank into the locked position.
Fuckfuckfuck.
He reversed the handle, turned back toward the way station. Then he began cranking like a madman.
“Come on,” he muttered to himself as the handcar began to gain speed. “Come on, baby. A little faster.”
The floor gradually began to disappear beneath him at a faster and faster rate, and then he hit top speed. His arm was losing strength again, felt almost numb, but he did not relent.
The way station door came into view, and then Knile saw something utterly incomprehensible.
Lazarus was awake. He was on his feet, staggering across the floor.
Ursie was high on his back as if taking a piggyback ride.
What the fuck?
The two of them were in the way of the handcar. They were standing right in its path.
“Lazarus!” Knile yelled. “Get out the fucking way!”
Lazarus turned, and even from this distance, Knile could see there was something not right about him. His eyes seemed distant, vacant, lacking their usual sharpness. Ursie lay slumped over his shoulder with her hair hanging over her face, and now Knile could see her fingers had been spread across the Redman’s cheek.
Knile understood.
She’s doing something to him. She’s in his head.
The two of them tottered over to the emergency door release, then Lazarus’ hands lifted and clamped over the handle. The muscles in his massive arms bunched, and his whole body seemed to tense as he put everything he had into the effort. However, like Knile before him, Lazarus made no impression on the handle. It remained stubbornly in its place.
The handcar trundled onward and the door loomed close. Impact was only moments away. Although he doubted he’d built up enough momentum to penetrate the steel, there wasn’t much Knile could do about it now. He’d given it all he had.
He prepared to leap aside.
Then, miraculously, Lazarus snapped the release downward, and the way station door suddenly sprang open. Knile almost overbalanced, then fell back onto the flatbed, stupefied, and the handcar sailed harmlessly through the newly opened portal and into the darkness on the other side.
18
Bagley led them out the back and through a heavy steel door, then down a worn concrete stairwell into a deep underground workshop. At the bottom he pulled a switch that ignited an array of yellow bulbs that hung from the roof, and the magnitude of his operation became obvious.
Bagley’s lair was huge. Stretching out in all directions, the workshop housed all manner of tools and materials: lengths of fabric, disassembled engines, gas tanks, partial aluminium frameworks. Hammers and saws and grinders. Not far away sat the most striking feature of all – the bulbous shape of a dirigible, cloaked in shadows and festooned with mooring ropes and a series of pipes and hoses.
This was their ride.
Memories came flooding back to Talia. Someone had told her that this had once been an underground car park that had come into Bagley’s possession after the fall of society, but Talia had trouble believing that there would be enough cars out there to fill up a space this large, even in the old days.
She had been here many times in the past, when this had been a bustling and flourishing place of business, and she had become accustomed to seeing workers moving between the various bays energetically and with a purpose. The place had been far more cluttered in those days, and it was not unusual to see five or even ten dirigibles in various stages of construction at any one time.
Now they had all cleared out, and this last machine sat waiting to be loosed upon the skies above. Talia wondered why Bagley had even agreed to sell this last floater. She had assumed that he would probably save it for himself and use it to escape the city, but it seemed that his only concern was accruing more creds, even to the bitter end.
“So, this is it,” Bagley said, pushing aside a sawhorse as he led the way across the scuffed concrete. “Like I said, I’ve been trying to find the damn leak, but haven’t had much luck. You’re just going to have to take her as she is.”
“What happens if this thing falls out of the sky and we crash?” Gernot said.
“Then you die,” Bagley said unsympathetically. “That’s your problem, not mine. I don’t make any guarantees about what happens after you slip the mooring ropes.”
He mounted a ladder and began to disengage the hoses that were connected to valves on the dirigible’s envelope, while Talia began to circle around the gondola, inspecting the rotating engines that were mounted on either side. They were in pretty poor nick, she decided, probably salvaged from the wreckage of a downed ship, judging by the dents in the housing, but it was too late to ask for an upgrade.
Hooking her foot on the edge of the gondola, she pulled herself up and looked inside at the controls. These, at least, seemed in reasonable condition. There was some rust on the panel itself, but the levers seemed sound, the gauges readable, and that was an improvement over some of the floaters she’d piloted in the past.
“Talia?” someone said behind her. She turned to see Yun standing there, looking up at her with a worried expression on his face.
“What’s up, Yun?”
He fidgeted nervously and glanced across at where the others were assisting Bagley with the hoses.
“I just wanted to say good luck.”
Talia frowned, perplexed, and dismounted from the gondola. “What are you talking about, Yun?”
“I hope you make it to Sunspire. You and the others.”
“You’re not coming.” It was not a question.
“No, I’m not.”
She sighed. “Look, Yun. I know this thing looks like it won’t even get off the ground, but Bagley knows what he’s doing. He’s been building these things for a long time, and–”
“It’s not just that,” Yun said quickly. He gave a desperate little laugh. “Granted, the th
ought of going up in that thing scares the shit out of me. But I’d already decided I wasn’t coming before we left the Reach.”
“So, what is it? What’s the matter?”
He made a pained expression and twisted the beads in his hands. “This whole plan to escape Earth, it’s just… aren’t you tired of facing certain death at every turn? Aren’t you tired of running?”
“I want a future, Yun. I don’t want to suffocate down here when there’s a better life waiting somewhere else. I thought that’s what you wanted too. Isn’t that why you joined Skybreach?”
“Yeah, but that was before. Now I realise the truth.”
She looked at him sceptically. “What truth?”
“That we’re not meant to leave this place. We’re meant to die here.”
She recoiled from him, disgusted. “Don’t ever say that, Yun. That’s bullshit.”
“Look around you!” he hissed, on the verge of hysteria. “Look at what’s happening to this world. This is end times. This is our punishment. Someone up there,” he said, pointing to the ceiling, “has been watching us, and they’re giving us what we deserve. We should accept that and come to peace with ourselves, because we’re never going escape the judgement of the gods.”
“Get the fuck away from me!” she said, propelling a hand into his chest. “I mean it, Yun. You can give up if you want, but not me. Not ever. Stop spreading that poison nonsense.”
“Hey, what’s going on here?” Silvestri said, interjecting himself between them.
“He’s giving up,” Talia said, disgusted. “He thinks we deserve to die here.”
“That’s because we do,” Yun shouted. He turned to the rest of them. “Look into your hearts and you’ll see the truth. We turned our back on the gods, and now they’ve unleashed their wrath!”
Silvestri stared at Yun, disbelieving. “Yun, where is this coming from? I don’t understand. You’ve sacrificed so much for Skybreach, and now you’re just going to turn your back on it?”
“I’ve seen the truth!” Yun said, backing away. He began moving toward the staircase. “You will as well, in time. Make peace with yourselves before it’s too late. That’s the only way to greet the end. With a pure soul.”
Sunspire (The Reach, Book 4) Page 10
